


He's a Ghost Story

by CloakedSparrow



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alzheimer's Disease, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Gen, Hiding in Plain Sight, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Short Chapters, Short Stories, flower language reference, mentions of Howard Stark - Freeform, mentions of Maria Stark, mostly outside charcater POVs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 10:36:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7433217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloakedSparrow/pseuds/CloakedSparrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winter Soldier has long been thought of as a ghost story. Most of the intelligence community never believed he existed. After all, how could one man commit more than two dozen high profile assassinations over fifty years without leaving any trace of himself or simply growing too old?</p>
<p>Then came the knowledge that Hydra was still around. SHIELD was down for all intents and purposes. And most shocking of all, the Winter Soldier existed and the intelligence community relearned that sometimes the answers can be more horrifying than the the crimes that caused them to be sought out. </p>
<p>The Winter Soldier was loose. No one could say what state he was in or what he might do. The ghost story was more haunting than ever. </p>
<p>But for those few individuals he chose to actually haunt, the reality wasn't nearly as frightening as those others might assume.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Peggy

Sharon had noticed the broken window latch a few weeks before. She had even mentioned it to the woman at the front desk. While her Aunt Peggy was situated in one of the nicest assisted living homes in the country, she was still unable to get maintenance to get around to replacing it any faster. 

The windows weren't large and Peggy was on one of the upper floors. The building had excellent security, featuring around the clock guards and motion sensors by every entrance, including the windows. All this meant the broken latch wasn't a priority in a building full of high profile patients with equipment that was required to keep up their quality of life. 

But then Sharon learned that Hydra was still around and, although she doubted they were going to waste their time with an old Alzheimer patient at present, it wasn't ridiculous to worry for her aunt's safety. 

She was pleased during her next visit to see that, while the window latch had not been replaced, the window had been secured. A length of steel rod had been cut and placed to prevent the window from opening more than a crack. It was just enough for Peggy to be able to get some air but not enough for someone to reach around and remove the brace. The ends of the rod had also been filed and coated to ensure that her aunt's fragile skin would not be damaged should she have any need to remove it. 

Sharon mentioned that she was glad the home had done something when her Aunt just laughed. 

“Oh, the window? No, that wasn't them. James was concerned about it too, so he took it upon himself to secure it for me. Always such a considerate young man, James. Poor thing. He really deserves more credit than he's received. I should see if I can do anything to remedy that.”

Sharon enjoyed the rest of her visit with her aunt and then stopped by the front desk on her way out to ask if she might thank James personally. 

The woman frowned sympathetically. “We don't have any orderlies or nurses by that name here, dear.”

It wasn't uncommon for Peggy to mix up names and dates these days. Sharon thought back to the way her aunt had talked about James and couldn't be sure if she was talking about the past or the present. “Well, someone had to secure the window. If you figure out who, please thank them for me.”

Jason liked working housekeeping part time at the assisted living home while he attended college. He liked the patients, especially ones like Margaret Carter, who always had such amazing stories to tell when they were up to it. He always took the time to talk to the patients and ask if they needed anything before he moved on to the next. 

So he was pleased when his boss told him that she appreciated the initiative he'd taken in caring for the patients and how it certainly made a difference in the quality of their lives. However, when she started talking about the window in Ms Carter's room, he had no idea what she was referring to. Jason didn't own the tools needed to set that up and honestly, he wouldn't have even thought of it. 

He was going to correct the mistake when his boss mentioned a bonus. He knew it was wrong to accept money for something he hadn't done, but his textbooks had been more expensive than he'd expected this semester and he had already borrowed money from his parents to cover his copay when he'd needed his wisdom teeth removed. The extra money would mean not living off ramen noodles and peanut butter sandwiches for the next two months. 

In the end, he kept his mouth shut and accepted the bonus. He hoped whoever this 'James' was wouldn't mind him taking credit for his efforts. The fact that the guy hadn't made a fuss about it made Jason think he really just cared about Ms Carter's well being. Jason would make it up to James by keeping an extra close eye on her. 

Doing so meant that Jason started noticing things that no one else did. Little things, not worth reporting. Items were moved around Ms Carter's room, small repairs were made here and there, new notebooks or fresh flowers popped up when she hadn't had any visitors that the staff was aware of. Whenever he asked, Ms Carter just smiled calmly and said that James had stopped by, but no one else was aware of this James person. There was never any James in the guest records.

The orderlies started jokingly referring to him as 'James the helpful ghost'. Never when a visitor, superior or Ms Carter herself might hear them though. Everyone who worked there had far too much respect for her to be so careless.


	2. Howard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silvio had worked at the cemetery for years. Howard Stark and his wife had plenty of engineers, scientists and soldiers come pay their respects on public days, but no one ever came on family days. So he was surprised to walk by early in the morning on one such day to see a young man standing by their graves.

Silvio had worked at the cemetery for years. It was a very upscale place with high fences and green grass. The graves were kept clean, with old flowers or balloons removed before they could become a reminder of decay or sorrow. 

Silvio was very good at his job. Not just the physical tasks of making sure everything was clean and secure, but he was also good with grief. He knew how to recognize the different stages and manifestations of it. Knew whether a mourner needed a word of guidance or cheer or sympathy or simply needed to be left alone with their pain. 

Some graves had a lot of mourners come to visit, even years after the funeral. Others were rarely visited. Some had family members come on birthdays or holidays. Some had friends come occasionally. 

Some of the graves' residents were well known enough that strangers came from far and wide to see them. Because of this last group, the cemetery had specific days when it was open to the public and others where it was only open to the families of the deceased. 

Howard Stark and his wife had plenty of engineers, scientists and soldiers come pay their respects on public days, but no one ever came on family days. So Silvio was surprised to walk by early in the morning on one such day to see a young man standing by their graves. He had seen the Starks' son on television before and this was not him. This man was younger, with much longer hair and a distinct lack of facial hair. Silvio vaguely wondered if this was a grandson, but supposed it really didn't matter.

If he had gotten past their security checks, clearly, he was supposed to be there. 

The young man was holding a small trash bag, having clearly cleaned up the Starks graves before Silvio had arrived, which made him wonder how long the young man had been there. The youth was wearing simple jeans and a dark jacket over a hoodie. Nothing expensive or flashy. Fresh, violet and auqua hyacinths were placed before Maria Stark's grave and there was a small toy car before Howard Stark's. 

The young man's body language spoke of extreme sorrow and regret. His head was bowed and he was speaking very softly. Silvio couldn't make out the words and he didn't try to. This was the sort of grief that demanded solitude and privacy. Silvio would give the young man that. 

He stepped away and busied himself in another area of the cemetery until the young man had gone, just as quietly as he'd arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flower Language: Hyacinth. If you wish to honestly extend your apology to a person, offer them a bouquet or basket of hyacinth to request for their forgiveness. This flower is a fragrant and bell-shaped whose significance makes it a perfect addition to a basket or bouquet of your “apology flower gift.” Varieties of hyacinth such as aqua-blue blossoms signify honesty in flowers’ language while the violet ones mean seeking forgiveness from the offended one.


	3. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were the remnants of at least a dozen destroyed listening devices and a couple of motion sensors in Steve's trash can. Nick had sent someone to remove the bugs he'd put in before he disappeared. Apparently, there had been more. 
> 
> If someone from SHIELD had come to remove them, they would have either contacted Steve or taken the proof with them. Hydra definitely wouldn't have left behind evidence. Whoever it was had wanted to make sure Steve knew the bugs had been there. 
> 
> They wanted him to know _they_ had been there.

Steve returned home from another day of repeated questions and no leads. His apartment looked just as he'd left it at first glance, but then he moved to throw away an apple core and noticed something. He had taken out the trash after dinner the night before, so the trash can should be empty. It wasn't.

He dumped the tiny bits of metal, wire and plastic onto his counter and looked them over. They were the remnants of at least a dozen destroyed listening devices and a couple of motion sensors. 

Nick had sent someone to remove the bugs he'd put in before he disappeared. Apparently, there had been more. 

If someone from SHIELD had come to remove them, they would have either contacted Steve or taken the proof with them. Hydra definitely wouldn't have left behind evidence. Whoever it was had wanted to make sure Steve knew the bugs had been there. 

He checked the rest of the apartment cautiously. His toilet lid was down. He was sure he'd left it up as he usually did. He was beginning to wonder if it had been Natasha or his former 'neighbor' when he reached his bedroom. He had left that morning in a hurry and had only thrown the sheets and bedspread over the mattress for some semblance of order before heading out. Now, it was made impeccably, with military precise corners. Except the left side of the bed was tucked so that the sheets weren't as tight and the corner was pulled down in a neat triangle. 

A frailer, smaller body would be able to tuck itself into the bed easily, even if sick or weak. Steve had rolled his eyes whenever he'd seen the bed like that in the past, but on more than one occasion he'd been happy for it as he never would have made it under the covers by himself otherwise. 

Now he sat on the bed and cried tears of sheer relief. He had been so worried that Bucky had been captured again, by Hydra or some other agency that would seek to use him. But his friend was clearly able to move about with as much freedom as could be expected. He had also stuck close enough to find Steve's apartment and take care of the bugs for him.

Steve ran a hand over the exposed corner of sheet and smiled softly. “Still looking out for me, huh pal?”

He only wished Bucky would let him return the favor.


	4. Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam knew it was bad neighborhood to be caught in at that time of night, but he'd had a chance to help someone and he'd taken it. 
> 
> It turns out, someone has taken a chance to help him too.

Sam knew it wasn't a good neighborhood to be in at that time of night. One of the regulars at the soup kitchen had finally consented to go to a shelter and the nearest women's shelter that could take her was clear across town. Sam hadn't felt comfortable sending the young woman there by herself at night so he'd offered to walk her there rather than just give her directions.

Now, he had to make his way home by himself. 

He knew he was being followed when he was about a block away from the subway. If he could make it to the train, he would probably lose his tail, since it was stupid to rob people on the subway: no escape route; lights; cameras; witnesses with nothing better to do but watch their surroundings. He made it to the station without trouble but got there with twenty minutes to kill before his train arrived. 

Subways were generally safe. Subway _stations_ were not. Sam sighed and braced himself as he heard two men move to either side of him. They were a fair distance away, and might have just been waiting for the train as well, but the way they were looking around and slowly scooting closer told Sam otherwise. He was pretty sure these were the guys he'd been trying to avoid to begin with.

Finally, Sam turned to the man he was sure was in charge. The guy wasn't quite as big as Sam and neither of the men looked to be in nearly as good shape as he was in. He might be able to intimidate them away.

Sam stood straight, letting his military training show in his the way he held himself. His voice was clear and confident without being smug or dismissive. “Son, you don't want any trouble.”

The guy looked amused. He slipped a knife out from his pocket and opened his mouth to throw out what would undoubtedly be a cocky retort, when something behind Sam caught his eye. His bravado drained from him and he took a step back. “C'mon Bri, let's go!”

With that, the man spun around and walked away quickly. His friend ran around Sam to follow him. They took a quick look back and started speaking to each other quietly before hurrying off. 

Sam kept his eye on their retreat for a moment before he turned and saw a figure heading back up toward the street. It was a tall, slender man wearing plain dark clothes and a ball cap. His hands were tucked into his pockets and his head was lowered. 

Sam doubted the man's presence alone had scared off those guys. He must have done something, given some sort of sign that he was more trouble than Sam was worth. 

“Hey!” Sam called out. 

The stranger turned partially to glance at Sam over his shoulder as he walked up the steps. Something about the dark hair curling around the guy's ear and his sharp cheekbones rang a bell in Sam's head. He couldn't' place the guy though.

The young man turned forward again and continued his ascension. He left without a word. 

Sam was relieved when his train arrived. He'd had an uneasy feeling since the incident. He realized he had narrowly avoided being robbed or beaten, but it was more than that. His grandmother used to use a term: 'It feels like someone walked on my grave'. He suddenly understood what she meant. 

As he arrived at the VA for a late meeting, he noticed a familiar figure in the corner of his eye. The guy was standing in the shadows across the street. Sam knew it couldn't possibly be the same young man from the station. There was no way he could have beaten Sam there by cab or on foot. Still, it looked like the same guy. 

As soon as Sam approached his destination, he saw the young man turn to leave, as though he had just been making sure he made it alright. Sam himself had done that for his sister and plenty of associates over the years. 

Something occurred to Sam then. 

“Hey, man.” He called out once more. He indicated the building behind him when the guy made another half-turn to look at him. “You need help?”

The young man turned to leave again. Sam called after him one more time. “Thanks for earlier!” 

“I owed you one,” the guy called back, just loud enough for Sam to hear. Then he continued walking away. 

Sam frowned. He glanced at the door, wondering if was worth missing the meeting to figure this out. When he looked back, only a couple seconds later, the young man was gone. 

He only knew of one person who could move that quickly.

Technically, he realized, he knew _two_. 

“Shit.”


End file.
